


all of the stars will lead us home

by sleepylouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Friends to Lovers, Highschool AU, M/M, i'm forgetting to tag a lot of things, if i'm not lazy, lots of fluff, lots of love, might be a sequel, there's beach sex, there's drunk sex, there's high sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:18:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylouis/pseuds/sleepylouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis and harry are best friends.<br/>(except harry really loves louis and that complicates things a bit.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of the stars will lead us home

**Author's Note:**

> THIS MIGHT HAVE A SEQUEL I DON'T KNOW YET BUT PEOPLE KEEP ASKING ME and I don't know why I put that in all caps but it felt nice... real nice...
> 
>  
> 
> anyways, who else would I dedicate a fic to besides maria... it's becoming an issue...but not really...because I love her... where's the fish emoji...

Harry was seven when he moved to America.

At first, it was all so _foreign_. To a little boy in a big country where nothing seemed familiar, it can be overwhelming and it _was_ for a while. It was all _sun_ and _funny accents_ and _cars that never drove on the right side of the road_ and Harry really didn't know how he would ever get used to it.

If Harry was honest, he _hated_ America.

The kids made fun of the way he talked, and never included him in any games. He was behind in maths because they taught it differently in America and it was like starting the subject all over again which particularly made Harry upset because it used to be his best class. And his parents--well, everything was stressful for them, and more often than not, they'd be bickering or sullen towards each other.

Harry often ran off to the woods behind their house when it became too much.

The woods were always his refuge, his place, his _home._ Back in England, his best friend Niall used to go walking with him in similar-looking woods, and since Harry didn't have Niall with him here, the woods made a suitable substitute. The leaves were his friends, the animals were his company and the trees were his protection from the outside world.

Except--on the dawn of Harry's eight birthday--the woods suddenly aren't  _his._

There is a boy. Small, slender build, messy brown hair, electric blue eyes glaring coolly at Harry's own. Dirty face, torn clothes, and bruises littering his skin.

Harry stares.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The boy jeers, his face scrunching up. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I--wait, these are _my_ woods," Harry says indignity. " _You're_ trespassing me."

"Am not!" he shoots back, blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I live just around the bend and I have just as much right to be here as you do."

Harry considers retorting back--he loves a good battle--but this boy _could_ be a potential friend. He's the first person to talk to Harry and not mention his accent or look at him funny.

So Harry takes a different route.

" _Fine,"_ Harry huffs. " _Our_ woods."

 

He sticks out his hand tentatively, and the boy shakes it with some suspicion.

"Still fifty-percent my forest because I'm older," the boy adds with a smug smile. "By the way, I'm Louis."

"Harry," he says, then stops short. "And you are _not._ I'm taller than you!"

"I'm eleven," Louis says with an air of great importance. " _You're_ not that old, so I get one percent more of the forest than you do. It's the rules."

"I'm nine," Harry frowns to himself. His big green eyes give a reproachful look around at the trees because he doesn't want to give Louis any more of his forest, but he _really really_ wants a friend. "And fine. You get one percent more. _Just one."_

"Ha," Louis says triumphantly. "So I win, _and_ I'm older than you. So you have to listen to me."

 

" _That's not_ in the rule book!" Harry sniffs. "Plus I can probably run faster than you, so that means _you_ have to listen to me sometimes too."

"You can _not,"_ Louis rolls his eyes. "Older boys learn how to run faster than younger boys because they've been doing it longer--"

"Then catch me if you can!" Harry shouts over his shoulders, streaking off into the woods. Louis lets out a little _hey_ of complaint, but wastes no time in taking off after Harry's shiny sneakers in his own shabby pair.

They end up spending all afternoon together, and Louis even lets Harry pick one of the games they play because _yes_ , Harry is the faster runner. Other than that, though, he does what he wants to do and Harry follows with his big green eyes and floppy boyish curls.

Louis burns bright as the sun with a personality equally as radiant. He is glorious and magnificent and uncontrollably powerful when he tilts his head back and laughs with all the furious heat of a brilliant star. Harry is caught up in the warmth, obsessed with his blaze, attracted to his burn, and too young to know how _deep_ he's already gotten himself in.

After all, everyone knows what happens when you get too close to the sun.

_Ashes, ashes we all burn down._

 

[+]

 

"Louis." Harry is in the grass, staring up at the starry night sky. He's now twelve years old and Louis is fifteen and nothing has changed between them--Louis is still magnetic and Harry is still hopelessly attached. "What's high school like?"

"High school is shit," Louis sighs. "You've asked me this a thousand times, Harry."

"But you never really give me an answer," Harry pouts. "I want to _know._ Will people like me? Are the classes hard? Will we get to sit together at lunch?"

"You're smart so you'll probably think it's easy--unlike me," Louis murmurs, "and yeah, I suppose you can sit with Zayn and me."

"But you didn't answer my question."

"To be fair, you had about fifty."

"Will people _like me,_ Louis?" Harry says anxiously, ignoring that last comment and turning his head to peer at Louis. His glassy green eyes show just how terrified he is and it's quite obvious how important Louis' answer is to him.

"It's hard _not_ to like you," Louis sighs. "You've got these irresistible curls and pretty skin and pretty green eyes and a cute little accent to match. If I somehow managed to like you, I don't think it'll be too hard for the rest to follow along."

"You really think so?"

"I _know_ so, Harry," Louis says with mild exasperation. "Girls will like you I bet."

There's a pause where Harry hesitates and the only sound between them is the chirp of the crickets and the far-off hoot of an owl.

"Stan said I have to shag a girl in order to be popular," Harry says shyly. "He said he's already done it twice..."

"Bullshit," Louis cuts him off with a snort. "Stan is lying. You don't need to be with a girl."

"Good." Obvious relief passes over Harry's face, but it slowly turns into shyness again. "Uh... Lou?"

"Mhm?"

"Have you done _it?"_ Harry whispers, eyes growing wide again and Louis can't help but laugh at Harry's innocence. Obviously he hasn't introduced Harry to the wonders of porn yet.

"Yes," Louis flicks his hair out his eyes. "When Eleanor and I were dating during the middle of the year, I took her to my house when my parents weren't there and yeah, I did _it."_

Louis chuckles again.

"How did it feel?" Harry's cheeks flame up and he avoids Louis' gaze.

"Nothing spectacular," Louis shrugs. "It wasn't anything I couldn't do with my own hand and definitely not worth the hype. Don't worry, you have time anyway."

But Harry is burning with curiosity. He wants to know what affection feels like. He wants to understand what _love_ is. He wants someone to like him enough to take him like that.

"I want to know what it's like," Harry says sadly. "I've never even been kissed."

"Like I said, there's time--"

"--I want you to kiss me, Louis."

There's a pause where Louis stares at Harry openmouthed and Harry blushes again.

"Boys don't kiss boys," Louis stammers. "That's... I don't know, really... But you're not supposed to..."

"But I _want_ to kiss boys," Harry says shamefully. "I always have. Girls are nice but they're not fiery enough, you know? Boys have this luster about them--powerful and magnificent with glowing skin and leathery hands..."

" _I_ don't want to kiss boys," Louis says stubbornly. " _I'm_ straight. Kiss someone else."

But Harry doesn't want to kiss someone else. He wants to kiss Louis. He wants to feel those lips under his, he wants to press into Louis' neck, he wants to run his hands through Louis' hair. He wants to taste Louis' familiarity, Louis' fiery burn and Louis' golden aura. He wants to fall in love with the feeling of being loved back by the only friend he's ever had.

Harry is twelve and maybe Harry doesn't understand, but he still just really wants to kiss Louis.

 

( _Except Harry_ is _scared and he doesn't and not a day goes by that he doesn't regret it.)_

 

[+]

 

High school turns out to be the worst thing that's ever happened to Harry.

His grades are good, yeah, but other than that it's all _shit._ Harry falls through on making friends, finds it impossible to balance his home life and school, and constantly thinks about his budding sexuality.

It becomes more and more obvious that Harry doesn't find girls attractive in a romantic way, try as he might. They're just _girls--_ nice skin and nice hair and nice eyes and nothing fiery and brilliant like Harry wants. There's no dangerous allure, no golden aura, no magnetic personality.

 _They_ don't have blazing eyes of fiery blue or sharp cheekbones or glorious chestnut hair or quippy jokes. _They_ don't move like boys do, with lithe grace and buoyant confidence. _They_ don't have collarbone tattoos that make Harry mad with longing, always peeking out at him from under the swooping necklines of tanktops.

 _They_ aren't _Louis._

It's the only secret he's ever kept from Louis, but how does he tell Louis that he  _never_ stops thinking about him? Harry is ashamed of it and Harry wishes he could change his obsession, but it's so utterly hopeless.

And Louis--Louis is so far out of reach.

Louis is popular and notorious for his charming personality and infamous pranks. Louis is good-looking and he's sarcastically funny and he's fantastic at soccer and _everyone likes him._

Teachers who give him detentions can't help but admire his skill on the pitch and his humor. Girls that he's rejected still stare at him longingly from behind their lockers. Boys who are jealous of him can't really hate him because he's amicable and he gets lots of girls and he's good at sports and he's funny. It's so irritating how _everyone_ seems to think they love Louis because Harry knows he's the only one who could truly love the _real_ Louis.

_(And there's there's Louis' "girlfriend" and Harry doesn't even want to **think** about her.)_

And yet, Louis still makes time for him among his sports and his parties and all the other friends he has, but it's never the same anymore. Louis talks about things Harry's never known and he wants to scream and punch sense into Louis for messing with people who will hurt him and he kind of, maybe _(definitely)_ wants to kiss him.

But Harry doesn't. Harry has self-control and Harry knows how to hide it and Harry pretends like nothing has changed.

He still goes to all of Louis' soccer matches and cheers for him louder than anyone else. Louis still comes to Harry's track meets, despite the fact he makes it clear he hates running. Louis still drives him home everyday and Louis still isn't ashamed to let everyone know his best friend is an freshman _nobody_ who doesn't have friends and doesn't really talk to anyone.

Louis likes Harry and Harry loves Louis and he supposes that'll have to be good enough for now.

( _Except it isn't.)_

[+]

 

Towards the end of freshman year, Harry's mum finds a new steady boyfriend named Robin.

It really shouldn't matter, but Harry hates him. He fucking _detests_ his happy smiles and the way he kisses his mum and the way he tries to get Harry to like him. He feels betrayed _all the time_ that his mum could leave his real dad three thousand miles away back home in England for someone who's so _far_ from being a father figure.

Gemma likes him _(of course)_ and his mum loves him _(obviously)_ and Harry hates his guts.

He buys them unnecessary things with his endless money and tries to spoil Harry except Harry won't let him. Harry won't let Robin _near_ him; in fact--he spends most of his days over at Louis' house because of Robin.

Anne hides how upset Harry's refusal to accept Robin makes her. Robin pretends like he isn't the cause. And Louis' mum welcomes him like a second son.

So yeah. Harry practically lives at Louis' and his mum doesn't hardly ever talk to him and Gemma constantly tells him he's a rude, ungrateful asshole.

The only good thing about the whole situation is Louis.

Louis makes it okay-- _better,_ at least. Louis makes him laugh and Louis forces Harry to play FIFA with him to forget it all (even though Harry hates FIFA) and Louis lets Harry curl into his chest and cry when he feels like it's too much. Louis strokes his hair and watches sappy movies with him and tells him he's too much of a softie and Louis drives Harry to ice cream or the library or wherever he wants to go to find some sanity. Louis is _there_ and Harry doesn't know if he can handle how much he loves him. 

Except Anne--Anne is at her wits end with him.

 _"Louis isn't your family!"_ Anne screams at him when he finally does come home. " _Stop pretending that running off to him will make Robin leave!"_

 _"Louis is more of a family than you are,"_ Harry spits back. " _He's more of a family than Robin will ever be, no matter how hard he tries to buy my affection."_

" _Then live with him if that's what you want!"_ Anne's face is tear-stained and blotchy as she says it. Harry can see the pain on her face. " _You're an ungrateful pitiful asshole, Harry, and I don't want you under my roof! So go! Leave!"_

So that's exactly what Harry does.

_(And he doesn't come back.)_

[+]

 

"Louis, I want you to take me away somewhere this summer."

It's the night after the argument with Anne, and Harry is over his angry, sad and vengeful phases he goes through after he fights with his mum. Now Harry wants to do something: He wants to leave.

"You're absolutely crazy," Louis shakes his head. "How about I list some things wrong with that idea. A) we have no money b) we have no way to get anywhere and c) where would we go?"

"I have money," Harry says calmly. "I've been saving it since seventh grade. Nearly a thousand dollars. If you add the trust fund from my grandparents, I have a total of about five thousand. And you have a car. We'll just drive. Somewhere with the sea and somewhere with lots of stars."

"Harry," Louis laughs, "that's not the point. You can't just run away from your problems."

"I can with you," Harry answers seriously. "You're eighteen. I'm sixteen. Legally I can go with you."

"But you can't just _do that,"_ Louis shakes his head and sighs. "People don't just _pack up_ and go--"

"The only thing I see stopping _us_ is _you._ "

 

" _Harry_ ," Louis sighs. "I'm all for adventure, but..."

"Do it for me," Harry cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "Do it for us. You're going to be gone next year at college. This is _it_ , Louis. Do or die. All or nothing."

And Louis should have an answer--he always does--but he hadn't even thought about that. _College. Adulthood. Responsibility._ It's all looming so close, and Harry's right when he says this may well be Louis' chance to live before he's tied down with life.

"You really want to do this?" Louis raises an eyebrow. "If we get three hundred miles from here, you won't want to turn back?"

"Absolutely not."

"And you want to spend _all_ that money on what could be the stupidest thing we've done?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"All right," Louis gives a small grin as he sticks out his hand. "Shake on it."

Harry does, and he can't contain his smile because he knew Louis would understand. Louis always does.

"Tomorrow," Harry says quietly. "Let's go tomorrow night. Pack all day, make arrangements, do whatever. But I want to be gone by sunset."

"And where are we heading?" Louis sighs, folding his hands behind his head. He turns to look at Harry, unsure why he's even _considering_ this, but Harry's gaze is fixed out of the window.

"That's the great thing about it," Harry says softly. " _I don't know."_

[+]

_So they do it._

It feels like old times again--Louis and Harry against the world with nothing but open road ahead of them. Harry puts his head out of the window and feels the wind through his hair and the sun on his face and he yells nonsensical things to absolutely nobody. Louis just rolls his eyes and threatens to turn around, but he's smiling too.

And it's all so _uncertain--_ just like so many things in Harry's life. The whole idea is ridiculous and crazy and probably dangerous, not to mention overly reckless, but there is a boy siting in the drivers seat with his chestnut hair whipping across his face and a smile stretched across his tan skin that reminds Harry maybe it isn't so crazy to want something out of reach.

That's the beauty in everything, Harry supposes. The unknown. The chase. The pursuit of feeling something more than human.

And he does, right here and right now. Harry feels glorious and magnificent and he's sitting next to the boy he loves more than anything else in the world. He feels Louis' radiant warmth and he sees the bright blaze in his wonderful blue eyes and he hears Louis' happy laugh and he tastes summer in the breeze streaking through the car. Louis is dangerously splendid, perilously breathtaking, and wildly brilliant with the power to being Harry straight to his knees.

And well--Harry's always been attracted to the burn of the sun.

He knows he's falling straight into the fiery blaze.

_But that's the beauty of unknown._

"Louis," Harry sighs dreamily, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. "This it it. We're actually doing this."

"I know," Louis laughs like he can't believe it either. "It feels good though. It feels right."

"There's nothing ahead for us," Harry continues. "It's just you and me. All or nothing."

"All or nothing," Louis repeats with a grin, turning to peer over at Harry.

"Let's swim in the sea and sleep on the beach and eat cheap food in the middle of nowhere and wake up to nothing else but each other," Harry sighs. "Let's paint ourselves to fit the sky and sing to the beat of ambiguity and dance under the rushing lull of rain."

"Anything you say," Louis shrugs, smiling. "There aren't any rules out here."

There's a pause where both of them just watch the road and mull over all the possibilities. Harry thinks about what Anne will do when she wakes up to the note Harry left her and the bed he's not going to see for a long time. He thinks about all the bad things he left behind in exchange for Louis, a car full of bags, and nothing but chance ahead of them.

Harry turns and smiles at Louis and Louis winks at him.

There's no one senseless, impractical and nonsensical enough to ever embark on a trip like this with him except Louis. And that's what Harry likes so much about Louis, he supposes--the _all-or-nothing_ attitude where there isn't a thing that isn't too rash. Louis lives with his spirit and not his reality-soaked brain and Harry thinks there isn't a thing they couldn't do together.

"We're crazy," Harry murmurs. "We're crazy and we're fucking _living."_

 _"_ Cheers to the wild kids then," Louis responds, lifting an invisible cup. "Long live the reckless, good health to the dreamers, and many fortunes to the foolish!"

"Cheers," Harry grins, turning towards Louis. Golden light from the dying sun paints his face in hues of unearthly beauty. His eyes are charged with the excitement and his smile is wide and genuine and happy.

Harry is sixteen and maybe he hasn't lived long enough to understand love, but he thinks he's found something _pretty damn close._

He wants to kiss Louis. He wants to kiss Louis under the bleeding sky as they escape into the beautiful uncertain, he wants to taste what he's never known, and he wants to venture into unfamiliarity with Louis. 

But he doesn't. He can't.

Harry sighs and closes his eyes.

 

[*]

 

"Wake up," Louis murmurs in Harry's ear. Harry mumbles something incomprehensible and reaches for his pillow to cover his face, except it isn't there. Harry cracks his eyes open in annoyance, expecting to see his room, his _house--_ but he's lying in back of Louis' Subaru with darkness all around him and _nothing_ looking remotely like home.

"Where are we...?" Harry murmurs sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Louis?"

"You said you wanted to see the stars," Louis grins. "Well, go on then."

Harry looks upwards and gasps. The sky is a black canvas stretched as far as he can see with stars littered across it like spilled glitter on black paper. There are so _many--_ Harry can't even fathom to count them all.

"Thought I should wake you up for that," Louis grins. "It was a hard choice though--you look so young when you sleep."

"It's amazing, Louis," Harry says under his breath. "Absolutely _amazing..."_

"Yeah, it is," Louis agrees. "And it's also where we're going to sleep tonight, except I won't be able to fit if you hog the space--"

Louis squeezes in next to Harry and Harry immediately curls his body towards Louis. It's a natural thing--they've always been into cuddling and such--but it feels like much more than that when they're under a diamond-scattered blackboard with just each other for company.

"Thank you Louis," Harry sighs happily. "Thank you so much."

"No problem kiddo," Louis chuckles. "I'm glad I'm here with you."

There's a pause where Harry stares at Louis and Louis stares at the sky. It was a offhanded comment with no real romantic intention, but it's enough to make Harry's heart buoyant with hope.

"'M glad too," Harry yawns tiredly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He buries his face into Louis' jumper and Louis wraps a protective arm around Harry. He looks down at Harry with a small, considering grin before he leans down and gives Harry a kiss on the forehead.

"What's that for?" Harry laughs softly. He hides the bubbling warmth from his voice.

"Someone has to tuck you in, right?" Louis winks at him again. "You being younger and all. It's my job."

"All right mummy Louis," Harry rolls his eyes, except he can't help but like the idea of Louis taking care of him. "Goodnight. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, probably should catch some sleep before tomorrow," Louis yawns. "Sweet dreams, Harry."

He closes his eyes and falls asleep almost instantly, except Harry doesn't. He isn't sure how long he was out in the car, but he just isn't tired. He wants to stay up and watch the way Louis breathes as he sleeps, he wants to see the way the stars cast their silvery light against his face. Harry is endlessly fascinated by Louis' beauty.

He strokes Louis' hair softly and presses kisses into his collarbones. Louis doesn't move, but his lips twitch up into an almost half-smile. It's the exact grin Louis used to give Harry when he was eleven.

"I love you," Harry sighs. "I love you a whole fucking lot, Louis. Open your eyes and see the way our horizons meet."

Louis--of course--doesn't open his eyes. But it feels nice to at least _tell_ Louis, conscious or not.

"All of these stars will guide us home," Harry whispers into Louis' hair. "And look where they landed me--right next to you."

Harry falls asleep with his lips on Louis' temple and his hand grasping Louis' warm one.

 

[*]

 

They end up in Washington state.

It's not the place Harry was expecting, and apparently Louis wasn't either _(I read the map wrong, dammit!)_  but Harry thinks he likes it. It's lush and green and rainy, kind of like England. It makes him miss his real home.

"The Pacific Ocean is only twenty minutes away from here," Louis says with a sigh. He's still mad at himself for landing them in the wrong state. "We can spend a few nights there, but I'm going to need a shower eventually."

"Can you sleep on the beach?" Harry asks.

"Probably not, but if we find the right spot, who's going to know?"

"I guess," Harry laughs, and then the car falls quiet until Louis hits the music.

They've been at this for five days, and Harry doesn't think he's gotten tired of it yet. How can he, really? They've done the crazy shit Harry only dreams of doing--and it's been nothing but fun along the way.

In Montana, Harry and Louis both got tattoos. Harry's was a simple star, and Louis got a rope around his wrist. Harry thinks he likes the little tattoo--even though he didn't like getting it. He cried twice, and Louis had to stop laughing long enough to help the tattoo artist pin him down.

Louis bought them some beer with a fake ID the next night and got Harry drunk for the first time. Harry doesn't remember much of it, but he knows he was _extremely_ touchy--Louis told him the next day how Harry practically assaulted him, then laughed because he was too drunk to stop it.

Harry worries a bit about exactly _how_ friendly he was being, but Louis doesn't seem to care.

Then last night, the pair of them snuck into a closed mall and chased each other through the stores--which was really fun--until the security guards caught them on tape and called the cops. Louis cussed more colorfully than Harry has ever heard him, and then they bolted out of a back door and through the empty Montana streets. They ran until they couldn't any longer, then stopped to catch their breaths, laughing too hard to really make sense of what just happened. In the background, they could hear the sirens heading to the place they just left.

And Harry has never felt more alive.

He's happy and he thinks he's in love and he doesn't want to change a single thing.

_Except maybe Louis loving him back._

"What about your friends?" Harry asks after a few minutes of silence, trying to start some kind of conversation. "Haven't they asked where you are? And what about Eleanor?"

It takes a lot for Harry not to look bitter as her name rolls off his tongue.

"Mostly just Zayn," Louis shrugs. "He figured I was with you, and I told him I'd stop to visit somewhere along the way. And Eleanor? Why does she matter?"

"Aren't you dating her?" Harry asks, confusion written on his face. He tries not to get too hopeful too soon.

" _God no,"_ Louis laughs. "I can't believe you didn't know that!"

Harry almost blows his cover as the words fall off Louis' lips. _No Eleanor?_ Harry can _definitely_ dig that.

"What happened?" Harry asks carefully.

"Never into her," Louis shrugs with a sigh. He pauses before he continues, his voice dropping shyly. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Harry says happily. He's still thinking about _no Eleanor._

"So... I've been experimenting," Louis says carefully. "With people, I mean. It's just... Eleanor never felt right, so I kissed a guy. I kissed a guy and it felt a lot better than it ever did with Eleanor, and..."

Louis trails off, his face flaming.

"I never really questioned my sexuality, but now I do all the fucking time," he continues softly. "I still think girls are attractive, but I think the same about guys. And it just doesn't make sense, I guess... I don't know..."

He doesn't finish. Harry can tell he's regretting even saying anything, but Harry is glad he did because while Harry always knew Louis wasn't completely straight, he didn't know he'd actually tried something with other guys.

"Sexuality is hard," Harry sighs to himself. "Love is hard."

"That's the truth," Louis mutters. He turns off his car as they park at the deserted beach. Even from inside the car, they can hear the roar of the ocean.

"But it doesn't have to be," Harry says slowly. "You just have to be reckless enough to go for what you want."

The words hang in the air and Harry _prays_ Louis says something, but his blue eyes are glued on the ocean. It doesn't even look like he heard Harry.

"I bought sandwiches when you were sleeping on the way up here," Louis says abruptly. Harry's heart drops. "We can grab those and the blankets and eat on the sand."

Harry doesn't dare to bring it up again, but he sighs as he unbuckles his seatbelt. He grabs the sandwiches and the blanket and his sunglasses and follows Louis out to the beach.

The first thing he notices is how _fresh_ everything smells. He can smell salt and sea life and sand and water and Harry doesn't think he's ever loved anything more. He's never been to the ocean, but seeing it right here makes it hard to imagine living anywhere else.

"It's... _wow,"_ Louis sighs. Harry--so caught up in the ocean--forgot he was even there. "Makes you feel pretty insignificant."

"Yeah," Harry echoes. "Yeah, it's pretty amazing."

So they sit down together and Louis pulls off his shirt and lies down in the sand. Harry tries desperately not to look at Louis' well-toned chest, but it's so fucking difficult-- _Louis is being an asshole for doing this to him--_

"Harry," Louis says quietly. "Remember when you asked me to kiss you that one night? You were like twelve and I was fifteen."

"Of course I do," Harry groans. "That was really embarrassing--sorry--"

"No," Louis chuckles softly. "It was cute. Really fucking cute. I think about it a lot."

"Why?"

"Because you were so... _Raw._ I could tell how much you wanted to feel affection, love, whatever you want to call it. It was written all over your face." Louis gazes wistfully off into the distance. "It struck me because you were willing to share who you were and I was still an ignorant asshole too scared to admit to my lies."

Louis inches closer to Harry and gazes at him sadly.

"Do you still feel the same way?" Louis says softly. Harry tries to listen, but it's hard when he sees the ocean in Louis' eyes-- like two tidal wave crashing into him--

"What?"

"I said, _do you feel the same way as you did when you asked me to kiss you?"_ Louis' tone is serious and his face is unreadable.

There's a pause where the ocean roars and Louis stares at Harry and Harry can't believe what he's hearing. He feels like he just got punched in the stomach--all the air leaves his lungs and his brain starts buffering. It takes the spray of ocean water on his skin to pull him out of his shock.

"Yes," he says hoarsely. "God Louis... _Yes."_

Louis crawls over towards Harry with a small smile on his face and pushes Harry down gently. The sand makes a soft pillow, but Harry isn't even paying attention to that. His eyes are on Louis and Louis' bare chest and the way he's looking at him--

"What are you doing?" Harry whispers in a gravelly voice. "Louis--"

"How did you put it...? I'm--ah-- _being reckless enough to know what I want,"_ Louis grins smugly, throwing on leg over Harry's hips. Now he's straddling Harry and staring down at him and Harry can't fucking _believe it--_ he's dreamed about this forever--

And then Louis leans down and kisses Harry in that all-or-nothing type of way that takes Harry's breath away. It's like an explosion of heat--reds and golds and fire and electricity and Harry is lost in the burn of it all.

_Do or die, but don't you dare fall short either way._

Louis is a skilled kisser; he moves against Harry's lips with ease, nibbling on his bottom lip a bit and gently prying his mouth open. It's all Harry can do _not_ to be overly enthusiastic; he's already sloppy in his excitement and it's making it hard to keep rhythm with Louis.

But it's just--Harry has been craving this, _needing_ this for so long. He needs the feeling of Louis' hips grinding into his and he needs the taste of Louis' mint gum in his mouth and he needs the sound of Louis' small sighs of pleasure. He feels like he's on fire--every nerve ending is hyper-sensitive and every part of his body is screaming at him _don't let Louis go, don't let Louis go-_

And by _god,_ Harry doesn't.

He tangles his hands in Louis' hair and runs them all the way down his face to his hips. Harry wants to go lower-- _everything in him is begging to drop just a few inches_ \--but for the first time since Harry met him, he has no idea what Louis wants. He still can't even process that he's making out with him right now--only the pulses of pleasure streaking through his bloodstream and Louis' own firm weight against his chest lets him know this isn't some kind of trick.

" _Louis_ ," Harry says breathlessly, closing his eyes. Louis is paying homage to his neck, leaving hard little nibbles where he sees fit. " _Oh god, Louis."_

He can feel the wet warmth of Louis' mouth against his collarbones, nibbling at his shirt and leaving hickeys along his pale white skin. It's a sensational; Harry can't process everything racing through him because he'd surely go into overdrive. His brain can only think _Louis Louis Louis_ and his body is clearly along the same line--Harry's already harder than he's been in months.

"Let's get this off you," Louis says, except his voice is much higher and strained than usual. His fingers shake as he fumbles with Harry's shirt but Harry isn't much better--he can barely _see straight,_ let alone test his motor capabilities.

But it finally comes off and Louis continues his progress down Harry's collarbones to his nipples. His tongue against them makes Harry squirm and whimper, but Louis is relentless--he holds Harry down and bites down, causing Harry to almost scream. 

" _Fuck,"_ Harry pants. " _Jesus Christ."_

Louis just makes a little _mhm_ of acknowledgement, his face set in concentration. He's trailing his way down Harry's well-shaped abdomen, leaving gentle kisses against his rib cage. His tongue then traces his way down Harry's happy trail and he pauses right above the waistline of Harry's jeans.

"I'm going to give you a blowjob," Louis says calmly, "and you're going to say my name when come apart in a moaning, whimpering mess."

'"Anyone could see us," Harry says feebly, but his dick could care less if his fucking _parents_ were watching at this point. "Maybe we--"

"Remember what I said," Louis plows on. " _My name._ I want to hear it come off your lips."

His eyes are furiously burning with a different kind of passion that Harry has never seen. He tries to say something, to argue, but he _can't_ because Louis has started palming him through his shorts.

"Already so hard," Louis murmurs. "You've wanted this, haven't you? You've gotten off to this, _haven't you?"_

Harry can only let out a small whimper.

"You want to feel my lips around your dick?" Louis asks quietly. "Will it make you come all over my face?"

Harry lets out another strangled moan.

"So eager..." Louis continues with a smug smirk. "You won't last very long."

Louis slips Harry's boxers down and slips between his thighs, grabbing the base of Harry's dick. It's long and thicker than Louis has ever seen, yet still white with the prettiest little veins running along the sides. The head is pink and desperate; there's already precome pooling there.

Harry watches everything, his brain furiously  trying to keep up with everything happening. It's like a battle between mind and body--his body is frantically searching for friction against Harry's pitifully hard dick versus his mind, which is telling him _don't move._

"So pretty," Louis sighs, leaning down to lick the precome. Harry's back arches instantly and he twists with the effort of trying to keep his hips from shoving his dick right into Louis' mouth. "And so tasty. Sweet, a little bit salty, and so _very_ Harry."

And then Louis takes all of Harry down in effortless motion and Harry-- _holy fuck--_ Harry feels like he's been shocked with a thousand volts of electricity. He opens his mouth in a soundless scream, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to ignore the building pressure in his pelvic area, trying to ignore the heat overtaking his body--

Louis takes him down once, twice, three times, letting out the prettiest gags Harry has ever heard. He thinks he could come just from listening the pitiful little sounds Louis is making-- _so hot, so desperate, so good--_

 _"_ Fuck my face, Harry," Louis pants when he finally pulls away. "Go. _And remember what I said."_   

He deepthroats Harry again, and this time Harry lets his hips buck upwards, forcing himself into Louis' mouth. He doesn't realize how uncoordinated and harsh he was until he sees the tears streaming out of the corners of Louis' eyes, but he doesn't complain or tell Harry to stop. He just closes his eyes and braces for the next jerk of Harry's hips.

Harry only lasts for about thirty more seconds before everything inside him comes apart in a blazing white orgasm. His whole body seizes up and his back curls at an impossible angle and his mouth opens to let out a gravelly, squeaky sob.

And then he's coming so hard he can't see straight or think straight or even breathe straight. All he knows is Louis is grabbing his hand and he's moaning in pleasure as Harry comes undone.

" _Louis,"_ he gasps in a raspy voice. " _Holy fucking shit--"_

Louis--who'd been getting himself off as he gave Harry the blowjob, comes just after Harry does with a tremulous exhale of breath and shaking hands. He shoots his load on Harry's chest, barely missing his mouth--and then he collapses against Harry's come-splattered chest.

They don't speak for a while--they're both worn out and not sure what to think. And yeah, even though they have an unconventional friendship, it's kind of hard to explain what they just did as mere friends.

"Jesus Christ," Louis says weakly after about five minutes. "Your cock almost broke my jaw."

" _You_ almost broke my back," Harry murmurs. "I've never came like that. Not that hard or that intense."

Louis sits up and Harry gets a good look at his come-smeared face. It's all over his eyelashes and in his hair and dripped off his cheekbones. Harry thinks come is a good look for Louis.

"Taste yourself,"' Louis nods. "Go on."

Harry takes a thumb and cleans off Louis' eyes, sucking off what he managed to collect. Never having tasted come--much less his own--Harry is unsure if that sweet, salty bitter taste he gets is what it's supposed to taste like.

"What a way to have a first kiss," Harry laughs weakly, collapsing back on the sand. "God Louis... I can't believe that just happened."

"Me either," Louis admits with a sigh. "I'm a legal adult and you're still underage. Do you know how fucked up that is?"

"Pretty fucked up, but I'm not complaining," Harry grins. "Next time, I get to suck you off."

"Next time," Louis murmurs. Harry can instantly tell he said something wrong because Louis' face falls and his eyes lose their fire, but he just watches as Louis picks up his shirt and starts walking to the ocean and makes no move to stop him. " _Right._ Next time."

And he leaves Harry laying in the sand again, closed off and barred to anymore discussion.

Harry curses loudly and collapses against the towel.  

 

[*]

 

The next few days are the oddest Harry has ever spent with Louis.

They don't talk--it's all physical. Louis bruises Harry with the force of his lips and leaves blooming purple marks all over his chest and sucks Harry off until he's seeing stars. Likewise, he talks Harry through his first blowjob and even though it isn't as neat as Louis' are, he still manages to make Louis twist in pleasure, little moans escaping his lips.

 

Yet they don't talk about anything related to their relationship, and as much as Harry's enjoying the new side of their ' _friendship' ,_ he wants to show Louis affection in ways that aren't just sexual. He wants to give Louis sweet morning kisses instead of desperate, lip-bruising make out sessions. He wants to curl up with Louis and just _talk,_ not always getting each other off.

Harry isn't sue what Louis is playing at, but he doesn't know how to approach it.

_So he doesn't._

_"_ Where are we going next?" Harry asks tiredly on Friday morning. They've packed up from the beach in silence, that awkward tension still holding over them like a cloud.

"I was thinking the mountains," Louis hums, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Harry turns towards him and sees Louis' golden scruff catching the light. Since they haven't been able to shave, Louis' beard is starting to grow in--and far from thinking it's unkempt, Harry thinks it's kind of hot. It's nice getting kissed with a rough, whiskery face.

"And why the mountains?"

'"I have a little surprise for you," Louis grins, "met a dude who invited us to a little... _blazing_ party."

"Right," Harry says uncertainty. This _surprise_ makes Harry uneasy, so he drops that. "Louis, did you realize we've been gone for nearly two weeks?"

"Two? Wow, it doesn't feel that long," Louis says in surprise. "And you haven't gotten tired of cheap gas station food or sleeping in this cramped car or not having fifty outfits to change into?"

"Not at all," Harry says happily. "I could do this forever."

"Yeah, well our money can't," Louis snorts. "We're down to three thousand dollars."

"We've blown two grand in two weeks?" Harry says, openmouthed. " _How?"_

"Gas isn't cheap, kiddo," Louis gives another laugh. "Food isn't cheap. Motels aren't cheap. Replacing that tire in Montana wasn't cheap either."

"I didn't know," Harry murmurs. "Do you think we'll have enough to make it to the end of summer?"

"No," Louis replies. "But if we're careful and don't go halfway across the fucking country again, I bet we could go another month. That means no motels though."

"Then how do we shower?" Harry says indignity. "Or brush our teeth or watch the news or--"

"Just trust me," Louis cuts him off. "I've gotten us this far, yeah?"

"But I want to shower!" Harry says, clearly upset. "I _need_ to shower!"

"Stop whining," Louis snaps. "I said I'll figure it out!"

" _You_ don't have to be rude," Harry shoots back. "I just _asked."_

"You're acting like a twelve year-old," Louis says irritably. "I don't have patience to deal with twelve year-olds. So shut up."

Harry glares at him, about to retort--then Louis presses the music button, and _Cage the Elephant_ drowns out anything he might've had to say.

Harry flicks him off and reclines his chair back. If Louis is being an asshole, he'll take a nap.

 

 *

 

Later, Louis is shaking Harry awake with a rough hand and then he disappears into the darkness.

Harry barely has time to shake himself awake before he's scrambling out of the car with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his teeth chattering. It's cold and he's in a scary-looking place and he can barely make out Louis' head in the shadows.

" _Wait,"_ Harry hisses, tripping on his feet and crashing into Louis. Louis topples forward, but manages to catch his balance.

" _Jesus Christ Harry--"_

 _"_ Sorry, sorry," Harry hastens. He's lucky Louis can't see how badly he's blushing. "My fault--"

"You manage to find everything to trip on," Louis mutters. "I swear..."

"Where are we going?" Harry chooses to ignore that comment as he tries to rub the sleep away from his eyes and _actually_ look presentable.

"I heard some guys talking about a local place up here," Louis whispers. "They come and they smoke and have a bonfire and it's supposed to be really fun. So I said we'd come."

"Smoke?" Harry says blankly. "I've never smoked."

"I know," Louis rolls his eyes. "So don't be embarrassing when you do."

"I'll try not to," Harry says coolly. "After all, _I'm_ not the one who asked to do this."

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake," Louis throws his hands up. "If you're going to be a pussy, go back to the car. _Seriously,_ Harry..."

Harry doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't turn around.

So they keep walking--it feels a little creepy to be this high in the mountains this late at night with nothing but the sounds of animals slinking in the shadows. Harry doesn't like nature that much, so he practically clings to Louis--and Louis, despite being short-tempered with Harry, doesn't say anything about it.

It takes about fifteen minutes for them to find the spot where the party is being held, and when they do, Louis is grinning ear-to-ear.

"Can't believe you've been friends with me for this long and haven't smoked weed," he says.

Harry looks around nervously--everyone is Louis' age or older, and they all look so _cool._ Leather jackets and dilators and piercings and tattoos--Harry feels out of place with his curls and Jack Wills jumper.

"Hey, glad to see you made it, Louis!"

They both whip around to see a tanned, extremely handsome black-haired guy with eyes of liquid honey. He's got a blunt in his hand and a loopy sort of grin on his face.

"Hey Zayn," Louis grins. They shake hands, then Zayn turns to Harry.

"Who's this, then?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Looks a bit young, yeah?"

"Uh--he's Harry," Louis looks at Harry and Harry avoids his gaze. "We're um... Friends, I guess."

"I heard that pause," Zayn smirks. "But it's cool man. He's cute."

Louis ducks his head like a thank you and Harry blushes.

"I've got my own somewhere around here," Zayn continues, looking around the campfire of about forty people. "His name's Liam. Great guy."

"That's great," Louis murmurs. "I'm glad."

"Yeah," Zayn laughs and takes a deep exhale off his joint. "But that's not the point, is it? You came here for some class weed, didn't you?"

" _Yeah,"_ Louis gives a wide grin. "Harry hasn't smoked anything. He's only sixteen, you see."

Harry is a little bit annoyed at the tone Louis uses with him. _Yeah,_ he's young, but that doesn't mean he can't be taken seriously.

"So you're fucking an underage kid!" Zayn's jaw drops and he tosses his head back in laughter. "One to their own, I suppose..."

Both Louis and Harry don't know what to say, so they don't say a thing.

"Anyways, it works a bit like a buffet here. You pay me say... Forty each, and I'll let you have unlimited," Zayn says. "Super cheap because growing out here is easy. Plus you're guests and I bet _he_ won't last more than a few hits." 

He nods at Harry again, then blows smoke rings into the night.

While Louis is shuffling through their wallet, Harry peers around at the odd assortment of people. They all smell like weed and alcohol and Harry doesn't know if he likes it or not.

He briefly wonders what his mum would think if she saw him here.

"Forty apiece," Louis counts it out and stuffs it into Zayn's hand with a grin. "Now show me why we came."

Zayn laughs again and motions them to a little table filled with bowls. There's clumps of what look like herbs, each with a different color and a different scent.

"Arjan haze is probably a good one for him," Zayn says, nodding towards Harry. "But if you like a quick high, Crystal Rain is the shit."

Louis thanks him and Zayn walks away to mingle with his friends, then Louis gets to work.

"Important life skill time," Louis says, handing him a thin strip of paper with the consistency of bible pages. "Learn how to roll a blunt."

Louis sprinkles some weed into the paper and rolls it like a burrito, folding the end down tightly. His hands work with expert precision, and in no time he has a nicely-rolled blunt.

He picks up a lighter from the table and sets the tip on fire, his eyes catching the blaze for just a second. Then he inhales, holds the smoke, and exhales it in puffs of white.

Harry watches, fascinated.

"That's good shit," Louis nods, closing his eyes. "Come here, come here."

Harry steps forward as Louis takes another hit. He reaches for Harry, placing his lips on Harry's like he's going to kiss him--then he exhales his smoke and Harry jumps back in a coughing fit.

"You idiot!" Louis laughs. "You have to _open_ your mouth. Here, try again..."

Harry steps forward cautiously and Louis presses his lips against Harry's firmly. This time, Harry opens and Louis exhales the warm smoke into Harry's mouth. It's strong and it's unlike anything he's ever had before and it still makes him cough, but he manages to inhale it.

"Good boy," Louis kisses Harry affectionately, then steps back to help Harry roll his blunt. "You like that?"

Harry gives a mix between a nod and a shrug.

It takes nearly ten tries for Harry to get the hang of the _inhale, exhale_ sequence, but once he does, he thinks it isn't too bad. It sure makes him feel fucking _good._

So Harry sits on Louis' lap around the campfire--like most of the couples there--and they take hits and kiss and share each other's smoke and look up at the stars. Harry feels loose and free and _so_ out of it--he just wants to sit here with Louis, kissing lazily and maybe suck him off. Matter of fact, he thinks he would've by now if they weren't in public.

"Like it, kiddo?" Louis whispers into his hair. "Do you feel nice?"

"Yeah," Harry says in a slow, droopy voice. "I feel... really.. _good."_

"Your voice sounds hot when you're high," Louis continues. "My boy, all fucked out with a voice like syrup on Sunday morning."

"I'm doing a good job," Harry blinks up at Louis. "I _told_ you I could."

"Just like your blowjobs," Louis winks, "it gets better and better."

So they stay for a few more hours, and by the time they leave, Harry is so high he's beyond senseless. He's drooped over Louis' shoulder, eyes red and barely open. He keeps mumbling nonsense into Louis' ear.

"I see he enjoyed himself," Zayn says once Louis seeks him out to leave. This time, there's a brown-haired guy sitting against Zayn's legs and smoking lazily. Louis guesses it's Liam. "Here, take a gram to go. We have way too much of it, and I liked meeting you guys."

Louis thinks they're in unbelievable luck. _Free pot?_ Louis could live here.  

So he shakes Zayn and Liam's hand and hauls Harry all the way back to the car. Harry is dead asleep, and even though he wants nothing more than to sleep along with him, he doesn't like being at the top of the mountain.

Louis pulls away, turns on the music quietly, and thinks.

This week has given him a lot to mull over. Kissing Harry. Blowing Harry. Getting Harry high. _Harry._

And even though Louis thinks it feels good to do this, he knows he can't avoid the relationship talk forever. No matter how many good blowjobs he gives, Harry will eventually bring it up and he'll want a happy relationship--which he deserves--and he'll want it with Louis. Who can't deliver it.

Louis was stupid for even introducing the idea into Harry's head, but he's been wanting Harry for a while now. A sexual whim. Purely passion. Not friendship, not love, just _sex._ And Harry doesn't want _just sex--_ he wants a relationship.

It makes Louis feel like shit that he's using Harry for his body and Harry probably genuinely loves him, but this is honestly _fucked-up._ Louis didn't think that giving his best friend a blowjob would mean possibly falling into a relationship with him, but then again he didn't really _think_ to begin with.

And maybe Louis does love Harry like that--he doesn't even fucking _know--_ but the risk is too great even if they _do_ start seeing each other (Louis shudders at the term) because they'll fight and they'll break up and Louis doesn't know if he could take Harry leaving him.

Louis sighs and looks at Harry curled underneath his blanket, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks in the pale moonlight.

He closes his eyes.

Harry is a fucking _child_ and Louis is eighteen. Harry has fragile, inexperienced emotions and Harry wants a lot of things Louis couldn't really give him. Harry deserves to have a cute fling for a first relationship--pleasurable but forgettable and what Louis and Harry would be something he wouldn't ever forget.

Louis and Harry are like fire--they have the opportunity to be beautiful or the opportunity to destroy everything around them. Fire is volatile and fire is dangerous, and everyone knows playing with it ends up in burns and ashes.

It's a chance Louis thinks is too much to take.

For now, he'll have to enjoy what he gets and hope Harry doesn't ask questions later. Maybe it'll work out and they'll get their picture perfect ending. Maybe they'll grow old together and adopt kids and raise a family and live that _happy ever after._

But honestly, Louis thinks he hopes too much.

 

[+]

 

They find themselves back at the ocean the next day.

Louis and Harry go swimming and find another hideaway and get high again. They sit in their cave by the sea and watch the waves wash over their bodies. They blow smoke into each other's mouths and kiss lazily and watch the day dip into night.

"I dunno Harry," Louis sighs into the silence, "but I have some extra beer in the car and we have the radio and I feel like we should take advantage of those facts."

"I'm already high," Harry closes his eyes and a serene look crosses his face. "I'm not doing anything that doesn't relate to giving or getting a blowjob."

"You're getting addicted to the worst good things in life," Louis laughs. "The Harry I left with hadn't gotten drunk, hadn't kissed anyone, didn't even _know_ what weed was--I'm kidding; it was a joke!--and didn't know the wonders of blowjobs."

"We got tattoos too," Harry says lazily, cracking an eye open. "You're turning out to be a bad influence... Tsk tsk... Somewhere far away Anne is disappointed in you."

"Shut up," Louis laughs, throwing seaweed at Harry. Harry yelps and lunges for Louis, grabbing his ankle and taking him down. Once the prey is successfully trapped, Harry pins him down and looks deep into his eyes, his long, messy curls hanging over his forehead.

" _Oh no,"_ Louis pretends to put on a frightened look. "I'm trapped by the bad boy with curly hair and big green eyes! I'm _so_ terrified!"

"You better be," Harry ducks his head and nibbles Louis' neck. He's finally getting the hang of leaving hickeys, and he can't stop marking Louis as his.

"What are you gonna do?" Louis squirms under Harry's touch, trying to keep a serious voice. "Kill me with cuteness?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a blowjob," Harry shrugs, playing with the string on Louis' swim trousers. "But your choice."

That stops Louis short. The smile slides right off his face and his eyes grow a little wider.

"Blowjobs are good," Louis responds just as casually, "yeah, blowjobs are nice."

"Thought so," Harry smirks, bending down. " _I thought so."_

In the end, Harry gives the best blowjob he's ever given and Louis is grabbing his hair and coming so hard down his throat that Harry thinks he'll never forget the feeling. Louis is too tired to finish Harry off, but Harry doesn't need anything--giving that blowjob was reward enough.

"You know what I reckon, Harry," Louis pants, wiping sweat off his brow. "Your blowjobs are near perfect. You can smoke. You can drink. You can get tattoos. You're a man after my own heart.

Harry just laughs--that's more true than he would like to admit--but doesn't respond. Louis has a feeling he knows why. He sighs.

"Go get the beer and my phone," Louis changes the subject, sitting up while he pulls back on his swimtrunks. "It's getting too quiet in here."

Louis throws Harry the keys and Harry does as he's told. He comes back five minutes later with the beer and the phone and also some suspicious looks--Harry definitely doesn't look old enough to drink.

"This cave should echo enough for a fine dancing hall," Louis says poshly, popping a beer and handing it to Harry. "We're just a little too sober for my liking."

"Drunken dancers," Harry giggles, taking a swig off his beer. "That's you and me."

"No, that'll be _you,"_ Louis corrects him. "You're such a lightweight you get drunk within two bottles. I'll be _buzzed,_ if that."

"I'll race you to two," Harry's eyes gleam in the dim lighting, "because you're right. Being sober isn't half as fun as being drunk."

Louis laughs and shrugs like _whatever_ and they go after it. Louis drinks two beers by time Harry's finished one and a half, and while Harry feels tipsy, Louis is as sober as a stone.

_Kind of._

"Drink three, kiddo," Louis pushes him on, handing him another bottle. "Drink three for me. Make me proud."

Harry chugs it down with difficulty and Louis watches with amusement, legs crossed as he sips his own beer. His hair is still damp from the water and it sticks to his forehead in clumps, his scruff is growing out further, and he's gotten ridiculously tan--and yet he's still the most beautiful person Harry has ever seen.

"Should've given him straight vodka," Louis mutters to himself, shakes his head. "That would've been some class humor."

"Let's dance, Louis," Harry giggles. He reaches for Louis' hand, except he misses. By two feet.

Louis sighs.

_The kid who's already uncoordinated doesn't need drinks that inhibit his motor capabilities._

But Louis turns on his phone and clicks the playlist Harry made for him anyway. _Toothpaste Kisses_ floods the small space, and Louis turns to Harry, bowing deeply.

"Can I have this dance my boy?" He says, sticking his nose in the air and offering his hand. Harry takes it with a laugh and Louis sweeps downwards to kiss it.

"Yes you can sir," Harry gives his best attempt at a curtsy, then Louis places his hands on Harry's hips and Harry wraps his arms around Louis' neck. They sway together for a few beats, then Harry buries his face in Louis' neck.

_Cradle me, I'll cradle you_

_I'll win your heart with a woop-a-woo_

Harry sighs into Louis' hair, his warm breath sending shivers down Louis' spine. Louis can smell the alcohol and the weed and the come and the ocean on Harry, and he thinks it suits him. _A lot, actually._

_Pulling shapes just for your eyes_

_So with tootpaste kisses and lines_

_I'll be yours and you'll be--_

Harry sings these lines to Louis, especially the last one. Louis knows what he means. He's not an idiot. Harry is waiting for him to fill in the missing word, but Louis doesn't because he's stupid and he's scared.

_Lay with me,_

_I'll lay with you,_

_We'll do the things that lovers do_

Harry pulls back and looks at Louis seriously. They still sway in the same spot and the music floods all around them, but it feels like they're the only people in the world right now. Harry with his seaweed eyes and messy curls. Louis with his sharp cheekbones and voltaic blue gaze filled with fire. Louis and Harry dancing together with nothing figured out or how to even _start_ untangling the mess.

_Put the stars in our eyes_

_And with heart shaped bruises_

_And late night kisses divine..._

The song cuts off and a more upbeat song comes on. It's the comedic relief the tense moment needed--the two break apart from the awkward situation and start dancing to the song. It quickly turns R-rated though--not that either of them are complaining.

So they drink and smoke and Louis grinds against Harry to dirty music. They kiss and blow smoke into each other's mouths and even go skinny dipping--thank god no one sees them--before the night finally starts fall.

They're both exhausted and an odd mixture between high and drunk. It's nice though. Harry is happy here with Louis, and Louis can almost forget all the guilt building in his gut about this whole thing.

If uncertainty is beauty, then being under the influence is fucking _god-like._

"Louis," Harry says distantly. They're lying under the bleeding sunset, hand-in-hand. "Tell me you love me."

"What?" Louis' body freezes and he feels a lot more sober than he did thirty seconds ago. He's been dreading this--but it was inevitable.

"Tell me you love me," Harry says softly. "Make me feel like I'm not completely fucking _stupid_ for loving you."

"Harry," Louis breathes deeply. "It's not that easy. Love isn't that easy."

"It's a simple question," Harry says stubbornly. "Tell me you love me or don't."

Louis pauses for a moment and thinks about it. He really doesn't have an answer for that question--he doesn't know what love is, so how does _he_ know? Louis has known Harry since they were young and Louis has gotten to understand and appreciate everything about Harry. Does that make him love Harry? The answer feels like _yes_ blended with a dangerously swaying _no._

 _How_ can he differentiate from friend love to lover's love? How can he tell if the lust he has for Harry is fueled by affection, not just hormones?

Louis doesn't know. He doesn't _want_ to know. But he _does_ love Harry, even if he can't figure out which way yet.

"Yes," he says slowly. "Yes, Harry I love you."

There's a pause. Harry inhales sharply.

"Then I want you to take me here, Louis," he says quietly. "I want you to have my virginity, not some asshole at a bar who fucks me and leaves and I never remember his name."

Louis stares. He fumbles for words, ideas, advice, _anything_ to get Harry to realize he could do much better, but Louis knows he won't say anything. He _doesn't_ want to say anything because it would be a lie."

"Harry-"

" _No!"_ Harry shouts, rolling over. "Stop fucking questioning yourself! _All-or-nothing,_ remember?"

"But you deserve more than me," Louis says helplessly. "Harry--"

"There are probably a hundred thousand guys who could be ' _more_ ' than you," Harry says fiercely. "And I could've asked any of them to take my virginity. But I didn't because they aren't _you,_ Louis. What do you not get about that?"

"Everything," Louis mutters. " _Everything."_

" _I fucking love you!"_ Harry screams, sitting up. His face is red and his eyes are tearing up. "I've loved you since I was fucking _twelve_ and all you ever tell me is that you're not good enough! Being good enough isn't _shit_ to me, Louis--you can fucking _destroy_ me and I'd still be happy because you're the one to do it!"

"But--"

" _That's_ called all-or-nothing!" Harry yells. "I'll take whatever you give me, even if it's an knife in the back because _you_ were the one who put it there!"

"That's called being ridiculous--" Louis starts, but Harry is angry and he won't let Louis finish a sentence.

" _That's called love!"_ Harry's voice breaks at the end. " _That's called do-or-die, Louis_! So either fucking take me as I am or send me away but don't you _dare_ do anything in the middle!"

Harry sits there with his chest heaving and tears glittering in his eyes and his face red and splotchy. His curls are damp, tangled and matted with sand as they hang in front of his eyes and his skin--still so baby smooth without a trace of a beard or stubble--is flushed with his rage.

And Louis--for the first time in his life--doesn't know what to do.

Harry is sitting in front of him, raw and beautiful and so _open--_ he continuously pours everything he has into Louis. He's fierce and unwavering and gloriously splendid and he wants to give Louis all of himself right here on the beach and Louis-- _Louis is moved by it._

"Harry," he murmurs, not meeting his gaze. "You make me feel so many different fucking things I don't understand. You make me feel blazing hot and fiery and alive and then you make me feel like I could lie with you forever be content. You make me feel like I'm falling into the darkness and I can't see where I'm about to hit--it could be a bed of spikes or it could be a feather mattress, but--

 " _That's the beauty of the unknown,"_ Harry finishes softly for him. He drops his head and a single teardrop falls into the sand.

Louis stares at the drop of water in the sand and back up at Harry. He's already ripped Harry apart, already brought him to his knees and already made him beg for mercy. Now Harry's head is bowed before Louis and Louis is holding the cold metal of the blade against his neck. _Do or die. All or nothing._

"You said you love me," Harry whispers softly. " _Prove it_."

There's another tear sliding down Harry's cheek and Louis doesn't think he could stand to see it fall. He reaches forward and swipes it away with one broad stroke of his finger.

"You're beautiful, Harry," Louis whispers. "And _goddamnit_ , if this is what you want me to do, then I'll do it. But if we go up into flames, you can never say I didn't warn you."

Harry doesn't seem to care--he surges forward and crashes into Louis' lips with all the force of the ocean roaring onshore. Louis grabs his Harry's curls furiously, pulling him down further, closer, _tighter_ \--he can't lose Harry, not now.

Their movements are frenzied and tangled and not at all graceful. There are no words exchanged--the pulsing air around them charges the atmosphere with energy, _electricity **,** _ and it's enough to make them both feel alive.  

Louis pushes Harry's head back until his soft, smooth neck is exposed. He pauses for a minute and watches the way Harry's Adam apple bobs up and down erratically, how his veins pulse with adrenaline, how he sits perfectly still, waiting for Louis to make the next move.

And Louis does.

He drops his lips to Harry's skin and sucks harder than he ever has before. Harry lets out a yelp, but Louis doesn't stop--he needs a nice, blooming purple bruise--

Louis pulls back to examine his handiwork and can't help but think Harry looks beautiful when his skin is webbed with purple from his lips.

"This is me," Louis whispers, pushing hard into the center of the bruise. Harry winces. "And this..." Louis drops down to press a soft kiss, right in the center of the lovebite, "is _you."_

There's silence for a minute as Harry gazes into Louis' eyes, fierce adoration etched upon every line of his face. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He just waits.

"Do you see?" Louis leans in close to Harry's ear, his lips ghosting the curve of his skin. "Lovebites are pretty from the outside but with one wrong touch, they turn to pain. _Do you get it?"_

"Yes," Harry whispers. " _Yes._ But the thing is-- _I like the pain just as much as I like the beauty."_

He grabs Louis around the neck and kisses him deeply again, fumbling with the tie on Louis' swimtrunks. It's all Louis can do to help him; his breaths are jagged and his eyes are alight with a furious passion. He can't stop looking at Harry--at all of his splendid beauty and exposed feelings. Harry is laid wide open in front of him--both physically and metaphorically.

It takes a few strokes of Louis' hand to get himself fully hard--he's shaking as he spreads Harry's long, pale legs and fits himself between them--

Having no supplies, Louis has to ready Harry with his own spit and hope it's enough to lesson the pain just a little bit. Barebacking with no lube is probably not the best first-time experience, but they really have any other options.

Louis looks down at Harry, at his puffy lips and closed eyes and chest heaving irregularly.

"Ready?"

Harry gives a firm nod.

_So Louis does it._

The first stroke in makes Louis dizzy with pleasure. Harry, who goes white-faced, gives a soft yelp and bites his lip until it bleeds.

  _He looks so beautiful_ , Louis thinks numbly, _as he's fucked out and open for me._

The process is slow, but eventually they build to a steady rhythm that falls in line with the roar of the ocean behind them. Their bodies are sweaty and sticking together and their moans intermingle in tangles of pleasure and pain. Louis holds Harry for dear life, whispering consolidations in his ear, telling him how _good_ he's being--

Harry keeps his hands on Louis' shoulder, digging his nails into the soft skin. He opens his red eyes--his face only visible by the ribbon of moonlight spilling into the cave--and whispers so quietly Louis almost misses it.

 _"Deeper,_ " he says in his husky, raw voice. " _Want to feel this for days afterwards. Deeper, Louis."_

Louis increases the speed and force of his strokes, which almost brings him to his knees in a rush of breathtaking pleasure. Harry's back arches and he lets out a beautiful whimper, tears mixing with the elation on his face--Louis is hitting his prostate--

It feels like hours, lying on the cold stone floor with just seawater separating them. They're both not themselves--Louis is burning like magnesium, lost in the feeling of being _inside_ Harry, fascinated by the way Harry curls and moans and whimpers when Louis hits the right spot, memorized by the way the silvery moonlight makes Harry look so _godlike._

Louis thinks he could  stay like this forever--Harry's body underneath his, being so _close_ to him, both physically and mentally, knowing Louis is the first one to have Harry like this, knowing Harry is _his_ if Louis will take him.

Being like this makes Louis believe he couldn't live without Harry.

But that's the _all-or-nothing_ effect. All of Harry is committed to this, and Louis feels more and more of himself breaking off and joining him. This feeling, this infinity-- _this_ is all-or-nothing, _this_ is what sent them halfway across the country, _this_ is what keeps Harry hopelessly in love with him, and _this_ is what Louis wants. He wants Harry when he's soft and layered in sleep, he wants Harry when he's laughing with his hair tossed back and the sun tracing his face with its warm fingers, he wants Harry when he's angry and blazing as bright as flames, he wants Harry when he's twisting and writhing underneath his body.

He wants Harry with his hands around his neck, squeezing the air from Louis' lungs.

 _Do-or-die._ Louis thinks he finally understands. He would go to the end of the fucking _earth_ for Harry and he would slip under the waves right here and right now, letting the ocean pull them under with their hands bound together and their last breaths given to each other in one final  desperate, dying kiss.

Louis feels himself coming apart--he's going to hit that edge any second. He reaches to pull out, but Harry stops him with a firm hand, his eyes closed as he nears the same orgasm.

Louis comes first--so hard and so fast he's cursing in weak whispers, his body flat against Harry's. He can feel Harry's muscles tightening under him as he approaches his release--then he comes with shuddering breaths, the hot sticky substance gluing their bodies together.

Louis buries his face in Harry's curls, breaths uneven and body too weak to move. Harry is holding into him with a shaking arm, stroking his back with an unsteady hand. His heart is pulsing furiously in his chest--Louis can feel it against his own skin.

"I love you," Louis whispers into his curls. " _I fucking love you, Harry."_

Harry's voice rumbles in his chest as he answers. Louis can feel the smile pulling at his lips.

" _I know."_

[+]

 

They spend three days in the cave.

There's lots of sex and lots of sleeping and lots of smoking. They're both in nothing except swim trunks, they haven't taken any hygiene measures, and their food has consisted of crackers, cheese, and soda. It smells pretty awful in the cramped cave, Harry is pretty sure he has back damage from sleeping on the rocks and the salt from the sea makes their skin so dry it cracks, but Harry wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

He's happy here. _So fucking happy._

He hasn't thought about what happens when this whirlwind trip is over, or what happens when Louis goes to college. He hasn't even considered facing his mum-- _who will probably kill him--_ and the thought of going back to school is one he regretfully wishes would go away.

Everything is so simple here with Louis. They _understand_ each other and they both want simplicity and uncertainty and the overwhelming feeling of giving themselves to each other. Harry thinks this is love at its most simple, yet most powerful-- _two people throwing everything away in exchange for each other._

And Harry is terrified at the thought of losing that.

"Louis," he says quietly, unable to shake that thought, "what happens next?"

"Next?" Louis murmurs. "Is there a next, Harry?"

"I mean when we go back," he answers. He looks up at Louis, who has his arm around Harry as he smokes.

"I'm not going back," Louis snorts. "I mean, I'll take you back, but I don't have to stay. I decided I'm not going to college because what's the fucking _point?_ I'm not good at school. I don't like school. I like being myself and being myself is being _free."_

"But what about me, Louis?" Harry sits up quickly, eyes crinkled in concern. "I _have_ to go back. I _have_ to stay. Except I can't because _you_ won't be there."

"When you're old enough, I'll come back for you," Louis says wistfully. "If you want to throw away your future for me, then I'll find you and we'll run away again. _Forever."_

Harry lets silence wash over him. He wants Louis to stay, but he understands why Louis doesn't want to. There's nothing for him back at home except a family who pushes him through things he doesn't want to do and bitter memories that leave bitter tastes on Louis' tongue. Louis always felt confined, but here Harry can see how happy he is because he can be himself.

"Let me stay with you," Harry sighs, nuzzling back into Louis' shoulder. "I don't care if we don't have any money. I don't care if we don't have a house. I don't care if I don't finish my education."

"I'm not going to let you do that, kiddo," Louis laughs, running a fond hand through Harry's hair. "You have so much going for you. Open up to Robin, talk to more people at school, study hard. Your problems are easy to fix and once you do, you're going to be _so_ happy. I promise."

"But Louis--"

"You know how it's like for me there, Harry," Louis sighs. "I'm not meant to stick around school much longer. My parents clearly don't need me. The only things I'd be staying for would be you and my sisters, but what happens if they decide they don't need me either, or you move on? Then I'm left with nothing."

"I would _never!"_

"Reality, Harry, is a bitch," Louis takes another deep inhale of smoke. "So let's not think about it too much, yeah? You have me right now, right here. You're going to have me for a few more weeks at least. Let's make it count."

"I suppose," Harry sighs. He pauses before adding, "when I go back, I'll be counting down the days until we can do this again, you know."

"I'll visit every summer," Louis kisses his forehead. "All you have to do is call."

They don't talk about it any more because it makes Harry upset and Louis doesn't like it when Harry is upset. Instead, they go for another swim, finish up the last of the weed, and pack up their stuff to head to the car.

_And they drive south--to California._

Louis keeps one hand on the wheel and one hand on Harry's as he proposes the idea of California being the grand finale. There's lots of great things to do there, he assures Harry, and Harry agrees even though he knows that it means the trip is almost over.

Two thousand miles away is a home he doesn't want to return to because it won't be a home without Louis.

But he doesn't say that. Harry just smiles and tells Louis how _great_ that sounds and Louis gives him a kiss from the drivers seat, dangerously swerving the wheel as he does. Louis curses loudly and Harry just laughs and somewhere in the back of his head is a little voice telling him-- _don't get too attached, Harry, it's almost over._

Harry doesn't listen. He's never been much for following the rules.

 

[+]

 

_Heat._

That's the first thing Harry notices about California. The sun blazes through their windshield and Harry can feel himself getting tanner without even  _doing_ anything. It's dry, suffocating heat and it's everywhere but Louis seems to bask in the sun.

_Maybe Louis should live in California,_ Harry thinks, gazing over at him, _it sure suits him._

Louis is shirtless and his collarbone tattoo is clearly visible in the sun as he drives. Sunglasses cover his eyes and his messy, three-days-of-just-sex-smoking-and-swimming hair falls over his forehead perfectly. His golden scruff is fucking _hot_ and the tan complexion his skin has taken sets off the rest of his features nicely.

Harry doesn't think it's fair how attractive he is--and he isn't even _trying._

He sighs and rests his head against the window, watching the scenery fly by. California is more mountainous than he expected and it's bigger than he expected--it took a day of driving to go from Washington to California. But the ride has been beautiful--Louis and Harry spent last night under the open skies, and maybe they did a bit more than sleeping--but that's for them to know and not anyone else.

"Harry," Louis says after a bit, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I have an idea. You like music and you like camping."

"Yeah...?"

"Let's go to a music festival," Louis grins. "There's tons of them around here... I'll bet we can find one easily."

Harry's face perks up right away.

Louis laughs, pulling into a deserted parking lot. He pulls out his phone and starts searching.

"Wanderlust Music festival in Lake Tahoe," Louis reads aloud. "It looks like a bunch of hippie shit... Meditation and hiking and _appreciation of Earth--"_

" _Oh!"_

"I knew you'd like it," Louis shakes his head as he clicks for directions there. Harry squeals in excitement. "The only reason I'm going is--"

"--because you love me," Harry finishes for him. Louis opens his mouth to reply with something witty, but Harry leans forward and shuts him up with a kiss.

And Louis-- _well, Louis can handle that._

They don't end up leaving the parking lot until forty minutes later--Louis with a flushed, sweaty face and Harry looking _much_ more smug than he should.

And well... If Harry _did_ give Louis a blowjob, no one would know except the pair of them.

 

[+]

 

Out of all the beautiful things Harry has seen on this trip-- _-and there's been a lot--_ Lake Tahoe is pretty high up on the list.

They arrive at the festival by midday, and it proves to be enormous _._ Thousands of people are milling around a huge, open plain scattered with brightly covered booths and tents for the people staying overnight. A stage is being set up towards the front of the landscape--right against the backdrop of Lake Tahoe.

Harry is sitting on a perch overlooking the whole thing and he sighs in contentment.

"-- So I managed to get us lot space towards the back of the festival," Louis says, coming up behind Harry. It scares him so badly he almost loses his seating and fumbles over the edge of the perch. " _Harry--_ what are you doing---"

Louis grabs him with a strong arm and hoists Harry up, pulling him away from the edge with a protective tug.

"Let's not put the most uncoordinated kid on the edge of the cliff, yeah?" Louis mutters. "Anyway, I was saying... I got us a good tent for tonight, and if we don't want to make our way through the crowds, we can stay in the tent together..."

Harry stops listening to Louis and tries to capture this scene perfectly in his mind: Louis in a _Wakefield High Soccer_ t-shirt with khaki shorts and flip-flops they bought at an in-and-out store. Louis with his messy hair falling over his eyes--eyes that compliment Lake Tahoe's own blue like Louis was born from its waters--and Louis with his proud smile as he explains to Harry what he did for them and--

" _Harry?"_ Louis rolls his eyes as Harry jerks back into reality. " _Jesus Christ,_ you should've been tested for ADD. Did you even _listen_ to me?"

"No," Harry says honestly. He shrugs.

"I can't believe I put up with you," Louis sighs, shoving the paperwork in Harry's hands. "We'll just figure it out as we go, all right?"

"Sounds good," Harry grins, and Louis proceeds to unpack what they'll need for the festival.

Later that day--after they've had a picnic on Lake Tahoe's shores and went kayaking with an older couple from Texas, Harry and Louis find themselves napping together in the hot, crowded canvas tent.

It must be a hundred degrees in the tent, but the two of them sleep like they've been awake for days. Harry's head is resting on Louis' lap and Louis' hand is slumped across Harry's cheeks where it had previously been playing with his hair. Their clothes lay in a crumbled heap on the other side of the blanket--but not like they'd _done_ anything. It's too hot for that kind of activity. Louis and Harry mutually decided the only thing they'd be doing in this temperature is nap.

And nap they do. They sleep for three hours, only rousing when the someone in the tent next to them lets out a shriek.

Louis jumps awake, jerking his hips and consequently awaking the heaviest sleeper in the world, otherwise known as Harry. Harry fumbles awake, rubbing his eyes in confusion.

"S'going on, Louis?" Harry mumbles sleepily. "Why did you--"

"Shh," Louis puts his finger up to Harry's lips, muscles tense with adrenaline.  " _Listen."_

Another feminine yelp comes from the tent next to him, and then it dawns on Louis that he's not hearing a girl in distress. He's hearing a girl getting shagged.

He collapses back to the ground and laughs.

"What's that?" Harry squints, hearing the sound too. "Louis..?"

"Can't you hear what a good dick sounds like?" Louis is laughing too hard to sit up. "Our noble neighbors are giving us a free show, and it sounds like the lady in there is _quite_ enjoying her role."

Comprehension dawns on Harry's face. A crooked grin ghosts his lips.

"Well, don't you think we should make it a duet performance?" Harry smirks. "We haven't been very interesting people to camp next to--"

"It is _way_ too fucking hot--"

 _"Loooooou!"_ Harry lets out a high-pitched whimper, keeping his eyes fixed on Louis' face. Louis finally gets it; he falls into another fit of laughter as Harry bangs on the flimsy walls of the tent. " _Oh god, right there! Yes, yes, yeeeess!"_

"It's funny because I'm _pretty_ sure you've said that before," Louis whispers, trying his hardest not to laugh again. Harry hits him upside the head.

"It's your turn to say something," Harry hisses back. "People are going to think you're better than me in bed."

" _But I am--"_

Harry hits him again. Louis lets out a little yelp that could pass for pleasurable to the right ears.

So they spend the next fifteen minutes having the most verbal ( _not actually sex)_ sex they've ever had. It even gets kinky--Louis starts threatening to spank Harry if he doesn't call him master and Harry is laughing too hard to say anything but a giggly " _okay"_ , which earns him a real-sounding spank across his cheek. That _literally_ slaps that laughter right out of him.

In the end, Harry and Louis decide they heard four people stop in their footsteps outside their tent. They count it as a personal success.

"The way we racked up an audience, we could be pornstars, Louis says later that evening as they're discussing the afternoon. The pair of them are shopping around at the food booths. "Harry XXX and Louis Tomlincock."

Harry laughs loudly, his cheeks pink with sunburn--which ends up wiping the smile off his face. He winces and curses loudly, gently probing the cherry _-_ red skin.

"I _hate_ having fair complexion," Harry mutters. "I'm so fucking burnt."

"Looks hot on you," Louis smirks. " _Literally."_

It takes a lot of Harry's self-control _not_ to laugh.

So they end up buying nachos layered in grease and sharing an elephant ear. They eat the food underneath a tree comfortably, watching the bands set up at the main stage. The crowd is buzzing with excitement now that the sun is sinking lower into the sky and the temperature has dropped--it's clear tonight is the main attraction.

In the mean time, people watching proves to be a rather entertaining hobby--Louis and Harry find someone in the crowd and they make up stories about them they think would fit. For example, a girl with a motorcycle tattoo covering her entire neck had a boyfriend who rode in a motorcycle gang and was killed. The tattoo is a reminder of the vengeance she'll one day carry out.

"Look at the guy with bubble gum pink hair," Louis whispers to Harry, pointing to the left. " _Look at that Mohawk!"_

"Where?" Harry squints and follows the direction of Louis' finger, but he doesn't see anything.

Louis takes advantage of Harry's momentary inattentiveness to drop a long, silver chain on his plate. Harry doesn't even notice.

"Aw, I guess I was seeing things," Louis lies. He drops his hand in mock disappointment. "Oh well."

Harry rolls his eyes and picks up his plate. He's about to take another bite out of his elephant ear when he catches sight of something silvery on his plate. Confusion crosses his face; he picks it up only to discover it's a paper plane pendant attached to a long, silvery chain.

He looks up at Louis, who's grinning at him shyly.

"I thought the silver would accent your sunburn nicely," he says sheepishly. "And the paper plane pendant... I dunno, I thought it could be a good memory of the journey we had--"

" _You_ did this?" Harry stares at Louis and Louis gives a shrug.

"I thought you'd like it--"

Harry drops his plate and dives into Louis' arms, peppering his face in kisses with a huge smile. Louis lets out a muffled laugh under the smothering attention, trying to gently pry Harry off him.

 _"All right-- ouch --- Harry!"_ Louis yelps. "You just kneed my dick!"

"Oh, right... Sorry..."

Louis wants to shout some more curses, but Harry's eyes are big and remorseful and Louis doesn't have the heart.

"It really is lucky I love you," Louis mutters, massaging his groin. "Shit, I think you killed about thirty thousand sperm."

Harry bites his lip, trying not to laugh.

He fails.

And Louis--Louis doesn't understand how he fell in love with _such an idiot._

[+]

 

The music festival turns out to be the best thing they've done all trip.

Neither of them know anyone who's playing, but Harry still sways methodically to the music, pendant gleaming in the pale moonlight and face washed with ecstasy--and Louis, well, he's mesmerized by the way Harry moves.

Louis sits with his legs crossed on the outskirts of the crowd, watching Harry with a joint in hand. He isn't alone though--there's a tall twenty-something with dark hair sitting next to him.

"Is he yours?" The man says, staring at Harry. Louis turns to him coolly, not liking the way his eyes are fixed on Harry's hips.

"Yeah," Louis says shortly. "He is."

"That's a nice catch," the guy continues. "Pretty little face. Young. Cute body--"

" _Thanks_ ," Louis says sharply, cutting him off. He definitely doesn't do a good job of hiding the edge in his voice.

"Woah," the man laughs. "I was _kidding._ But if you weren't here, mate... I dunno, maybe not."

He laughs again. Louis doesn't really think it's funny.

So they sit there in silence until the song ends and Harry comes rushing back over to Louis. His face is flushed--not from the sunburn, but from alcohol--his shirt clings to his sweaty body, and his curls are damp. There's a large, broad smile on his face.

"Who's this?" Harry asks breathlessly, turning to the stranger. Louis is about to say something, but the guy reaches over and extends his hand towards Harry with a grin.

"Nick Grimshaw," he says smoothly. "I was just talking about how pretty you are."

"Oh... Thanks," Harry says shyly. He looks over to Louis, who is clearly fuming. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Really now?" Nick slides closer. " _Tell me more."_

Harry leans in and Louis--who can't take anymore of Harry's little games--clears his throat loudly.

"Will you _look_ at the time!" Louis sighs dramatically. "Come on Harry--early morning tomorrow--bye Nick!"

And with that, Louis firmly grabs Harry's hand and tugs him away.

Harry is laughing the whole time as Louis pulls him through the crowd and towards their campsite. Louis-- _strangely enough--_ doesn't think it's funny at all.

"You got so jealous!" Harry says gleefully. "God... That's hot, Louis."

"He was probably double your fucking _age,"_ Louis makes a disgusted noise. "And he would've gone after you if I hadn't gotten you out of there."

"Thanks for being my savior," Harry giggles, batting his eyelashes. "My knight in shining armor--"

Louis grabs Harry by the waist and kisses him suddenly in the deserted pathway. He kisses him hard and he kisses him with everything he can muster. Harry is taken aback by it, but wraps his arms around Louis' neck anyway and responds just as enthusiastically.

" _Mine,"_ Louis says breathlessly, dropping down to his neck and artistically covering the skin in lovebites. " _Mine, mine, mine."_

Harry giggles and topples over, pulling Louis into the grass to lay with him. They have a clear view of the stars again, and it feels a little bit like the first night on the road when Louis stopped just so Harry could see them. That feels like ages ago--the pair of them have come so far since then.

"Want to know something?" Harry sighs into the darkness, his fingers twisting around Louis' own ones.

"Mhm?"

"When you were sleeping that night--the first night under the stars, I mean," Harry says slowly. "I looked up and said, _all of these stars will guide us home_. You know why?"

"No," Louis turns so his eyes meet Harry's and Harry swears he sees flames in their voltaic blue irises.

"Because I was next to you, Louis, and _you're_ home for me," Harry says softly. "I've had you next to me since I moved here from Cheshire. _You_ made this home. _You_ made everything around me feel like it was safe and okay. And without you, I'm scared it's never going to feel like home again."

"I'm not leaving forever," Louis laughs softly. "I'm always here. I'll be with you in the pendant around your neck and the memories you think about before you fall asleep and the stars you see when you look up into the sky. And then before you know it--it'll be summer again and I'll come back and it'll be just us two again."

 "But--"

 "Think about it, Harry," Louis says quietly. "When you look up into the sky, you're seeing the same set of stars I am, no matter if I'm right next to you or fifty thousand miles away."

"I don't  _want_ you fifty thousand miles away," Harry's voice is muffled, and Louis realizes he's crying. "You've made me happier than I've ever been in this last month, Louis. Don't take that away from me."

Louis gathers Harry into his arms and kisses his hair gently as Harry starts sobbing. His tears are hot and wet against Louis' shirt, and even Louis--who never gets emotional--feels his throat get tight.

"You've taught me a lot of things, kiddo," Louis says in a strangled voice. "You've taught me how to laugh at absolutely nothing and how to dance in caves by the sea and how to love fiercely. You taught me what  _all-or-nothing_ really means, and I'll never  _ever_ forget that."

Harry is too upset to say anything, so Louis keeps talking.

"I wouldn't trade this last month for anything, Harry," he continues. "There were so many special things I got to share with you and likewise you shared things with me.  _You_ gave me yourself--which is the most responsibility I've had in my life. I hope I made it right for you."

"Lou--Louis," Harry sniffs, inhaling Louis' familiar scent of pot and seawater and sweat. "Where are you going to go? What's going to happen to us?"

Louis reaches forward and presses a kiss to Harry's forehead. His lips drop down to his jawline and near his ear, where Louis leaves a few soft lovebites. 

"I don't know what will happen," he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion, "but a wise boy once told me that's the beauty of the unknown."

Harry sniffs and buries his face into Louis' chest, listening to his heartbeat. An overwhelming sadness washes over him as he thinks about the limited number of times he'll be able to curl into Louis' arms like this.

But Harry has always been attracted to the burn of the sun and he always knew he was falling straight into the fiery blaze.

_He just didn't think he'd grow to love the feeling of the heat somewhere along the way._

 

 

 


End file.
